Not the Best Western

As most of you know by now, I recently had several heart tests, culminating in an angiogram which turned out clear.  The angiogram was scheduled for Monday morning at 6AM in Fremont, CA, which is about an hour and a half from our home.

Rachael and I calculated drive time, getting ready time, etc and found out we'd have to get up around 3:15AM to get there on time.

Instead, we opted to go up the night before and stay the night there.  We decided to stay in the same Best Western that Rachael had previously taken out her pent up hostilities and suppressed violent urges on.  The one that we'd had to pay $140 to in order for them to replace the door Rachael kicked in.  (For the full story, click on this link.)

As we were preparing to enter the Best Western, I asked Rachael if she thought they would remember her.  While she was not sure, she certainly remembered the person she'd previously dealt with.

"That's him!"

"That's who?"

"That's the guy that I talked to when I checked in."

"The same guy?  Are you sure?"

She was sure.  We walked up to the front counter.  While not exceptionally friendly, he went through the motions of checking us in.  When he came to the question, 'Have you stayed with us before?' I thought I'd try to bring some humor into the situation.  I figured he'd know soon enough that Mrs. Karate Kid was back- surely her name would be noted in their system.  I tried my best to mitigate the damage that had been done.

"Yeah, you might remember her from a month or two ago.  She was the one that kicked in one of your doors!"

No verbal response.

But the body language said it all.  He visibly tensed and suddenly found that the computer screen was so very interesting that he didn't need to even look at us.

I'm not sure why he took it so personally, but he seemed to really NOT care for us.  Rachael assures me that he was very friendly and had a great smile when she checked in the first time.

I would not know. 

I never saw the smile.

He does, however, have a great scowl.  And ability to ignore the pesky things in life.  Like Life With Rachael. 

I should have given him both of our blog addresses.  After reading them, he'd at least know he was in good company.  Maybe he could contact the manager of Chevron and they could start a support group or something.

"Hi, my name is ____________ and I have crossed the path of Life With Rachael."

"Hi ____________!  We're all here for you!"

At the time, however, he did not seem to be in the mood for any more frivolity from Rachael or me.  In fact, once we walked out the door, which he ensured happened fairly quickly, I think he called up the manager and said in his best impersonation of the little girl from Poltergeist:

"She's Back!"



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